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"I wasn't sure if you'd come."
His eyes took her in as he came into the dance room. She was dressed in all black, skin tight leggings and that form fitting top with the keyhole neck and the flirtatious little skirt. He paused for a moment, reminding himself not too look too closely. Even though her back was to him, there were mirrors all over this room. Their eyes met briefly in the reflection, and then he closed the door quietly behind him.
"Why would you think that?" he asked.
She turned around from the barre, lowering the leg that had been stretched out along its length. "It's late. And you've been busy."
"It's because it's late that I came," he said. "As for being busy.... it's true. But you said you needed help. I promised you I'd help you if you really needed it."
"I remembered. That's why I asked. And I do... really need it." With her hair up and her still-new bangs sweeping across her forehead, her eyes looked larger and more irresistible than ever.
"What are you working on?"
"The tango," she said simply. "You know it wasn't nearly good enough at ACI."
He shook his head. "But I haven't skated to a tango."
She smiled. "I don't need help with the skating, not right now. That's why I asked you to the dance room."
He'd been wondering why it was here. "Certainly you don't want my help with dancing," he laughed.
"You could say that."
"Jason might be better."
She turned around, but in the mirror he saw a flit of smile. "No, Jason wouldn't be better. Not for this."
Curious, he stepped forward. "What do you mean?"
She suddenly turned around. They were standing nearer than before. He hadn't exactly intended that.
"I need help with certain things. Things you're better at."
"Like... what?"
She lifted her chin. "Like certain....choreographic elements."
"David's the best person to ask about the choreography," he raised an eyebrow. She was being vague, and it was driving him a little crazy. But not in a bad way. Not really.
"It's something David... or Brian... can't help me with. Well, they can, but it's not the same. I need someone with... your perspective."
Suddenly he felt it. The thump of his heartbeat in his chest, a bit of warmth rising up into his neck. "My perspective?" he swallowed.
"The tango is supposed to be sexy."
He coughed. "You... think I can help you with that?"
She gave him a look. "I know you can help me with that."
A long moment passed, but her eyes never once let go of his. If he wasn't so unnerved by this whole situation, he would have found himself admiring her--her confidence, her determination, her willingness to throw herself completely into her program and really sell it. Those qualities were what he aspired to as well.
"I'll do what I can."
She smiled and went over to her bag, picking up her phone. "I wanted to practice the dance first without thinking about the program. To get the feel of the sharpness and the rhythm. But I need a partner, of course. That's where you can help, to start with."
Before he knew it, she was in his arms, their hands joining together. The music started, and the steps he had learned in that ballroom class he'd taken once upon a time came back to him rather magically.
Full of twists, turns and spins, the tango was a serious, dramatic dance. One that required close... contact. He was the furthest thing from an expert at this sort of dance, but the close contact part? He could manage that just fine. There weren't any rules written anywhere that said he couldn't enjoy this, right?
He looked down, stealing a small glance at her as the dance went on. Her brow was furrowed, her eyes narrowed, looking someplace beyond them. More importantly, her distraction permitted him to finally look at her with more freedom. She was even more beautiful up close, he thought. Beautiful... and strong. He could almost see the gears in her head turning as her ears tuned in to every note of the song. She was processing the dance, absorbing the music, concentrating.
"Tell me what you're thinking," he suddenly interrupted her.
She looked up at him without missing a step. "I'm imagining what real dancers would do."
"You are a real dancer."
A smile spread across her lips. "That's a compliment."
"It's the truth."
"But this kind of dance... it's hard. Tango dancers, they do things with their hands, like this." She suddenly swept her hand along his shoulder, down the length of his arm, flicking her wrist and splaying her fingers out at the end, exactly in time with the music. His spine tingled. And then he tried not to notice the fact that her eyes were now on him, seemingly gauging his response.
"And they tell the story with their eyes," she murmured. Slowly, he turned his gaze to her again. She looked away quickly, almost as if she was shy, but then the next instant her eyes darted back to his, sparking and flashing with fire. He caught his breath. Next she twisted around in his arms, curving her body away from his as she looked over her shoulder back at him.
"I guess they do."
For the next few turns around the room, she practiced a variety of other looks. He knew she was just testing them out, figuring out what story she wanted to tell, but that fact didn't stop his stomach from somersaulting with each one. Finally she tossed her head back, exposing her neck, right on cue with the beat. It was classically tango. She was getting good at this.
"Oh, and they use their legs, too," she said, right as he spun her out. "Is it...like this?"
He spun in her in, and then all of a sudden, he felt the side of her calf starting to graze his. She was getting... very good at this. But that was just the start of the move. The music built and then suddenly hung at an intense pause, and the next thing he knew, her thigh was against his hips, her leg coming up completely as they both leaned into an angled pose. He'd seen something like this before, but he'd definitely never felt anything like this before. He couldn't have stopped his heart rate from accelerating even if he tried.
"It's like that," he managed to nod when they began to dance again, and he hoped she hadn't noticed how the last word got caught in his throat.
"I don't know," she mused aloud. "How will it look if I'm alone?"
And then suddenly she released herself out of the ballroom hold, stepping back from him. He froze in place, the surprise of her separation making him feel like something had been ripped out of his own body. But now she had turned her back to him, facing the mirror, analyzing herself.
"How will it look on the ice?" he heard her say softly to herself.
But he couldn't answer her. All he could do was stand there, motionless, entranced by her lithe body dancing alone. The point of her toe, the quick movement of her hips, the rise and fall of her shoulders... it was magnetizing, hypnotizing, intoxicating. And then she ran through the same movements she had executed on him moments ago, and the same tremors rushed through him as if he was still in her embrace. He closed his eyes briefly, letting out a shaky breath.
His eyes opened as the sound of the music stopped rather abruptly. She was turning around, looking at him closely. Suddenly he remembered the mirrors. She'd seen his expression, hadn't she? Betrayed.
"Now you tell me what you're thinking."
He hesitated too long. There was no way he could verbalize something helpful to her at all, not right now, not in English, probably not in any language at all.
"Tell me. I want to know your opinion, as a man."
As a man.
"Your audience isn't all men," he deflected.
"But it's still the man's opinion that counts," she shook her head. "I want the men to like me, and the women to want to be like me."
And then she tilted her head.
"So tell me. Is it sexy?"
He stood looking at her for too many seconds, his jaw clenched. But the longer he stood there, the more her question burned inside his thoughts, the more her image intensified in front of him. And then... he broke. He strode toward her, catching her around the waist. A little gasp escaped her lips as he pushed her backwards, all the way into those stupid mirrors.
"Yes," he said, his voice low as he looked straight down at her upturned face. "It's sexy."
And then he kissed her, hard.
The sound of her phone falling to the wooden floor registered briefly in his brain, but that was about the only thing he was aware of in this moment. Until he felt her kissing him back.
He pulled away as quickly as he had started, his heart racing from the rush her returned kiss had given him.
"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" he asked softly.
The soft curve of her lips told him the answer, even though her words were still making an attempt to be vague. "Maybe."
He looked at her sternly, and she couldn't stop her smile now. She squirmed out of his hold on her, but he moved fast, slamming his hands into the mirrors on either side of her, trapping her between his arms so she couldn't get away.
"You're not going anywhere now," he smirked. She bit her lip, her long lashes opening and closing slowly over her downturned eyes. This girl. She knew exactly what she was doing. She knew exactly how to make him want her.
"Look at me," he whispered, slipping his hand under her jaw, his thumb brushing the supple skin of her cheek. He lifted her face just slightly, and then her eyes finally followed, turning up to his.
I want you.
This time his lips pressed into hers more gently, kissing her soft mouth more thoroughly. In the same moment, his other hand found her body again, pulling her stomach flush to his. A sudden wave of heat passed through him at the contact, and then another when he felt her hands slide up his back. Wait, what was happening? He pulled away, sighing, as he took a step backwards from her.
"You know we can't be together. Not for a long time."
"That doesn't mean you can't kiss me sometimes," she said, leaning back against the mirror.
He looked down at her, and then he touched a finger to her nose.
"Do you know how long it's been since you kissed me?" she asked, lifting her chin. "Four months."
"Four months and 13 days," he corrected her, swallowing.
Suddenly her shoulders fell and her mouth dropped open. "So you...did...miss me."
All at once it felt like he was choking on something. "More than you know," he said hoarsely, unable to look at her.
It was silent for a second and then he spoke again. "Do you know how hard it is for me to see you every day and not be with you?"
"You're with me right now."
His eyes shot up at her words, but when they did, he was stunned to see tears collecting in the corners of the pretty brown eyes that had drawn him in so seductively only moments ago.
"Come here," he whispered.
She blinked, and then, her eyes clear, she pressed her lips together coyly. "No, you come here." And then her hand grabbed his shirt, yanking him towards her. The athletic fabric stretched under her grasp, and through the thinness of the material, he felt her fingers rake slightly over his abs. It might have tickled if it hadn't felt so...hot.
His lips crashed into hers for the third time, even more roughly than before. He had to have more of this, now. Her hands slid down to his hips, and he let her pull him in as much as she wanted. Apparently she wanted a lot. Her lips parted under his, inviting his tongue to slip hungrily into her mouth. His heart was pounding now. Why was it so difficult to breathe?
"What if someone comes in?" he whispered as their lips separated. "We're dead." He lifted his head from hers. In the mirror he could see both their faces were flushed, and only so much could be blamed on a dance workout. Especially when there was absolutely no music playing.
"We could lock the door?" she suggested, glancing toward the entrance.
"How suspicious would that look, if someone actually tried to open it?" he said. "I have a better idea."
Soon he was sliding back one of the mirrors, revealing a storage room filled with stacks of chairs.
"I didn't even know," she said, shaking her head.
"There's a lot of things you don't know," he returned.
"Maybe you'll have to educate me sometime," she said, her tone just a little provocative.
"Sometime," he said. "But not right now. I'm kind of busy right now," he grinned.
She screamed in delight as he literally picked her up off the ground, practically throwing her over his shoulder as she kicked in mock protest. He plopped her into one of the stacks of chairs before turning to slide the mirror closed behind them.
The door had barely shut before a pair of legs were wrapping around his waist, sending his pulse skyrocketing again. That stack of chairs was the perfect height, wasn't it? She reeled him into her, and then her arms went swiftly around his neck.
It took every ounce of his willpower for him to pause before letting himself completely succumb to her again. "Just one thing... I have to ask just one thing."
"Mm?" she responded, her eyes already closed in expectation.
"Why did you want this tonight? Won't it be even harder for us now?"
She opened her eyes, and this time it was her hand that reached up to his face, caressing it with a softness he'd only ever felt from her touch. "It will. I know it will. I just wanted to make sure you don't forget."
He stared at her and then he shook his head incredulously. "Forget? How could I forget?" He leaned forward, giving her a sincere, solid kiss. And then he wrapped her up in his arms, holding her close.
"You know every time I watch your tango I'm going to remember this," he whispered.
He felt her sigh contentedly.
And that, Yuzuru Hanyu, is exactly what I wanted.